


Temptation

by dweadpiwatemeggers



Series: Emerald and Bronze [3]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/M, Kissing, Massage, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26737972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dweadpiwatemeggers/pseuds/dweadpiwatemeggers
Summary: A follow up to Kiss Me, Kill Me - the detective is still recovering from her accident, and Unit Bravo is still on round the clock protection detail. Tonight is Adam's turn.From the kiss prompt: One person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss.
Relationships: Female Detective/Adam du Mortain
Series: Emerald and Bronze [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948069
Comments: 24
Kudos: 51





	Temptation

**_The Detective’s Apartment, Late Evening_ **

There are words on the page of the book she’s been looking at for the past 10 minutes. She couldn’t tell you what a single one of those words are, she is a little too distracted by contemplating the inherent weirdness of the situation that she found herself in, but the words are definitely there. On the page. Where her mind decidedly is not. 

Because it is a little weird. She’s curled up on the couch in leggings, an oversized knit sweater and thick woollen socks, next to her… she’s not even sure what to call him. Bodyguard? He does that, true, but it doesn’t quite fit. Boyfriend? They haven’t had _that_ conversation. Also, a little juvenile. She’s 28, after all. And he’s...older. Much older. (No doubt some Freudian enthusiast somewhere would have a thing or two to say about a young woman who lost her father figure very early and an older man. That enthusiast could shove it.) Guy she’s seeing? Would probably be the closest. Because he is male. And she does see him. Pretty frequently.

Whatever label fits best, she’s curled up on the couch next to him, enough space between them that they aren’t touching, but close enough that they could, if they wanted to, having what Farah has been insisting on calling a ‘sleepover.’ (And Charlotte is a _little_ grateful that the younger vampire uses that term when any one of Unit Bravo stays overnight, not just Adam. Because the whole ‘we acknowledged that there are feelings but neither of us really knows what to do with them’ stage is awkward enough without having it pointed out all the time.) Besides, he’s been behaving like a perfect gentleman - goes nowhere near her bedroom. And he doesn’t actually sleep. 

It’s all just a bit… weird. Well. The bit where he picks her up from work three to four nights a week and stays for dinner, and helps with the washing up is pretty nice. The bit where she wakes up to him handing her a fresh cup of coffee in the morning is...very nice. The bit where they haven’t even come close to kissing since that really disastrous first time is a little weird. And yes, she did just get out of a cast, and he hasn’t been doing the running away thing, and they’re just taking it slow, but still. She wouldn’t mind it if he kissed her again. The bit where he’s almost slouching on the couch beside her, his nose buried in his own book, should be weird, considering a few months ago they were barely speaking, but somehow it isn’t. It just feels...normal. Comfortable. The bit where he’s managed to convince her cat to curl up in his lap is definitely weird, though. Timbit has never been a lap cat, and yet there he is, a black ball of fluff curled up under Adam’s hand, getting absent-minded pets. 

She can admit it. She’s a little jealous of the cat.

Idly, she stretches out her right leg, flexing the ankle back and forth. It’s aching again. The joys of physiotherapy.

Adam looks up from his book, eyes flicking from her leg to her face, concern all over his. He’s gotten so much more...expressive around her of late. “It’s causing you problems?”

She shrugs, it’s uncomfortable, but not painful. “It’s still healing.”

He sets his book facedown on the coffee table and reaches his hand towards where she’s stretching. He pauses, and looks back to her, “May I?”

She nods and shifts a little closer to him on the couch. He hooks her ankle up into his open palm and very gently balances it on his thigh, Timbit streaking away to glower at them both from his cat tower, while Adam’s thumb sweeps around her ankle and up her calf. _Oh. Okay._ She has definitely noticed his hands before - large, square. Strong. And maybe she’s had the odd, fleeting thought about what they would feel like. Maybe. She’s not sure fantasy Adam’s hands quite match up to the real thing, though. Her eyes drift shut and he leans her head against the back of the couch as his fingers work the muscles up to her knee. She adds to her observations about his hands: large, square, strong, and very warm. 

She can feel her ears burning. He’s just rubbing her leg. To help her feel better. She’s fully clothed. They both are. There’s nothing else going on. He’s just rubbing her leg. It _really_ should not feel this good for him to be just rubbing her leg. It should _definitely_ not have her heart pounding like he’s got her pressed up against the wall in the shower or something. _God, it’s good that vampires can’t read minds_ . He finds a particularly knotted spot. She bites her lip. His thumb digs a little deeper, working the knot. She lets out a soft moan. _Shit_. She tenses. He stops.

And now her whole face is burning. She covers it with one of her hands. “Sorry,” she moves to pull her leg away, but he’s still holding it.

“Don’t be.” She opens her eyes and he’s leaning towards her, one hand still curled around her calf, his other reaching for her face. She leans into his touch, and his fingers graze her cheek, thumb brushing over her lips. Her breath hitches. He’s so close, so warm, gaze intense but unfocused, like he’s seeing her, but maybe a version of her that’s doing something else with him, and _Jesus_ what she wouldn’t give to know what that fantasy version of herself is doing with him right now. His fingers curl under her chin, tip it up, and he lowers his mouth to hers. 

\---

His mouth is an insistent, demanding thing. In a way, it’s a little less like being kissed and a little more like being conquered, his lips an army laying claim to her mouth, her cheeks, her neck _oh, God_ her neck, while she struggles to catch her breath, and she submits, surrenders, wholeheartedly. Then his mouth is back on hers, tongue swiping against her bottom lip and she opens, of course she does, loses herself in his soft lips and the press of his tongue and the gentle scrape of his teeth.

She’s on her back on the couch, one hand wrapped around his neck and the other looped just under his arm, not entirely sure when or how she ended up there. One of his hands is braced beside her head, the other curved around her waist on top of her sweater. He’s hovering above her, holding himself high enough that their bodies barely brush together. His leg is between hers, but he’s kneeling just enough to keep the space between them and _Good God_ she wants to feel the weight, the warmth, of his body on hers. She tries to pull him closer, but he resists, the muscles in his back bunching under her fingers.

He nips at her earlobe, gives a throaty chuckle at her soft whine. “ _L’impatience,_ ” he whispers.

“ _Avec ce que tu fais?_ ” She returns the favour along his jaw; is rewarded with a quiet groan. “ _Absolument._ ”

“You speak French.” He punctuates the statement by leaving a trail of kisses down her neck.

“Is that…” she gasps, squirms under him, as his lips find her collarbone, “really what you want to be talking about right now?”

He doesn’t respond, just kisses his way back to her mouth. He tangles his tongue with hers, leaving her breathless, senseless, and _fine_ , if he’s not going to get any closer, she can at least get her hands on him properly. She slips her hand at the back of his neck under the collar of his t-shirt.

He stiffens, leans closer, the outside of his thigh rubbing against the inside of hers, as he moans into her mouth as she grazes her fingernails lightly against his back. She whimpers at the friction, closer, but still much, much too far, and palms his back to try to tug him further down.

And then her alarm goes off behind her head.

His head drops onto her shoulder as she scrambles to pull the stupid thing out from behind her to turn it off. He’s shaking. That… can’t be good. She turns her head to see the expression on his face, but he’s grinning widely at her, looking just slightly punch-drunk, and shaking with silent laughter. She knows just how he feels, knows the expression is mirrored on her own face. She breaks out into giggles as he moves to rest his forehead against her.

“It would appear,” he says, once they’ve finally caught their breath, “that it’s your bedtime.”

“I don’t suppose I could persuade you to join me?” The words fall out of her mouth before her brain has time to register what they are. _Christ Almighty, where the hell did that come from_?

His breath catches. She sees a faint flush wash over his cheeks. “ _Tentatrice_ ,” he murmurs.

She cocks an eyebrow at him, responds in the same language, “ _Ah, parce-que_ _j’ai_ _tout commenc_ _é._ ”

He laughs softly, pulls away until he is nearly sitting upright. “I...You need the rest.”

She breathes out slowly, staring up at the ceiling to collect her scattered thoughts, before she pushes herself to sitting. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.” She lets her fingers trail down his arm as she stands, but stops when he catches her hand.

He presses a kiss to her knuckles, his eyes on hers the whole time. “Sweet dreams, Charlotte.”

She swears her knees almost give out. She’s not sure sweet is going to be an accurate descriptor.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations from French:
> 
> "L’impatience" -> the impatience  
> “Avec ce que tu fais? Absolument.” -> With what you're doing? Definitely
> 
> "Tentatrice" -> temptress  
> "Ah, parce-que j’ai tout commencé." -> Oh, because I started it.


End file.
